Human folly !
by Facelove
Summary: Madness around us. The enemy is himself affected by his killing spree. And I play with madness my mind more. POV Face takes place in Vietnam but nothing too graphic. NEW : FROM CHAPTER 5, CHAPTER CORRECTED BY ONE BETA : ANODYNE, THANKS.
1. Chapter 1

**Hi Muchachos !**

I wrote this fic in French a few days ago and today I decided to translate it as best I can for you to enjoy.

I'll post soon because my story is over but I do not post all at the same time for you to enjoy more.

I'm sorry for grammatical mistake, but I do not have beta so if someone wants to offer me coriger, I thank him and make me sign by PM.

So thank you to be indulgent and try to focus on the story. Or if you prefer I post in French, you see ;)

* * *

Human wickedness escapes me.

Many things on earth beyond my limited understanding, but this surpass everything else.

How can a person take as much pleasure to see another suffer? It always amazes me.

May God forgive their souls which are surely lost a long time ago, probably at the beginning of this war.

And me, how could I even speak of the creator while I'm there, hands tied at the wrists with rope already abused rough cutting my circulation, kneeling in the mud, no part of my body untouched by abuse that has become my daily, the sunlight flirting with my wounds attracting insects.

A toy for some, meal for others, an empty shell for myself.

I wait my turn by setting right in front of me.

I hear the enemy laughing when a man prays his mom and then I do not know why, I think that BA, he showed me a picture once.

Obviously I cannot think mine did not even know what she looks like.

But Mom Braracus, according to some stories that guy had shared these words seemed as strong as his son.

Oh make no mistake; I'm not talking about physical strength, but that they were both at the bottom of them.

BA always taken care of me in his own way and even more so since we are here in this hell, this bitch POW camp. Simply by being there.

He calls me his little brother despite our differences, and I must say I love it.

Yet he himself would need moral support no doubt, despite his impressive muscle mass that is lost with the passing days.

It is in poor condition itself.

We all really.

Whether physically, mentally, see both, whatever, we are all on the ropes.

But some had long since given up. They were left to die, or a semblance of attempted escape just for the privilege of final bullet in the back. Their escape in their own way. Another form of suicide.

Being educated on how hardline Catholic, although at the moment I do not think anything really, suicide is not an option.

Then I must be strong for the rest of the team.

Why you ask? Because I have always done with all those around me as if I had to prove something, not necessarily to them but to myself.

Since my childhood I hide my unease, I do not really know why. Maybe because nobody really had the time and inclination to worry about me or simply because I did not deserve this right especially after realizing that my own mother had abandoned me.

So I do.

Yes I am worried for them and try to make their captivity more bearable, as if that was possible.

I smiled at them from time to time to reassure them, as soon as the opportunity presents itself anyway.

I try not to cry when it's my turn to an examination to ensure that they are too scared.

I watch over their sleep to bring them back to reality when needs and to assure them that all is well, or will be fine.

I play my rogue seducer card for a little more water or food for their well-being, I managed to get drugs once. . .

Yes. I do it for the others showing no emotions of my own but it is exhausting.

I do not really have the strength. I lose more.

Hannibal, my Colonel, is stronger than me, most probably related to professional grade and age. Moreover, he calls me Kid. He says I'm still a baby's skin and he is probably right in since I am one of the few that does not, or very little, have facial hair. He says I have a face like that and also with my smile I can get everything I want, then he plays, I play, everyone does.

Face became my name.

Face!

For what remains.

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TBC or not ?


	2. Chapter 2

**Hi Muchachos !**

So here is the suite. I apologize for errors and language mistakes, I'm still not beta.

I hope it is still readable. Do not hesitate to tell me in review.

Thanks ;)

* * *

In short, Hannibal watches over us better than I do.

He aspire respect, confidence unwavering strength we did not know.

In fact, by thinking, this is the only person I really faith. At least I had. For I determined not to get out of this hole despite his promise the day it was caught. But I do not blame him.

Could I blame him? Of course not.

The man seems to feel guilty enough without it. Nobody wants it to him, at least those of the team because many count on him being the most graded prisoners.

The evening after the interrogations, I see how silently its balance sheet by listening, with his piercing blue eyes, every man for which he is the leader. The shame to be able to nothing make is read in the eyes.

Poor man.

Many things weighing on his shoulders.

His biggest pain of seeing his men suffer. And today is no exception.

The new game in which we are pawns ending undoubtedly a checkmate. Not for us, I'm afraid.

I can still hear once more the noise. The sound of a gun hitting vacuum sounding metal.

The game of Russian roulette, that's what we're having fun today with our executioners.

Probably to make sorting.

We are more than six aligned next to each other.

Three have already won or lost depending on how you see the thing. Bodies sprawled among us, where they simply dropped.

We are all more or less bruised, on the knees, playing this stupid game against our will.

Six men, six bedrooms, five empty, one full.

A ball for a living, as simple as that.

First, a soldier I do not know the name, and it's better. Not that it is easier when you send the die, far from it, but you're almost relieved that it is not you or worse, one of your unit.

It's sinned to think so? No doubt but do not bother to deceive. For me it is the truth.

Then come BA.

BA!

A thought, I turn my head towards him, it was the man who had pronounced the name of his mother. His last thought before his death, which is actually not coming, at least not yet, because nobody knows how to turn the guards provided. After all they have already replaced the bullet four times.

Maybe it really is a game? We're all going past right now, anyway. No. They did not have the information they want yet.

At least not in the unit Hannibal. We are all loyal to that side, not in our country, though somewhat anyway, but especially for our Colonel who has complete confidence in us. Do not break this is invaluable, especially coming from a man who worships. We all respect for his loyalty, respect, dignity, sense of duty, his priorities . . . his Jazz even if I complain often. But I would like to revisit this light shining in his eyes.

I sigh desolation.

How shit is? I promised to tell the truth to die a death-hero as well, not as an orphan, without a real suicide - but I gave up since I met this man and others. Almost like a family.

A family.

I continued my round to avoid thinking too much that I did not. Person that will regret my death. It is not worse.

But alas I know it is the turn of Murdock.

Oh no, not him. Pity.

Murdock was lost for several days in a better world with his invisible companion on all fours.

Billy seems to me there? Yes it is. Billy. Brave dog. Thanks to him, the plight of this place seems to soothe my friend.

We consider ourselves as brother. BA called fool or crazy or two times, as Murdock has always been a bit childish or silly instead. Me it makes me laugh, I love, at least I liked the innocence that made this war a little more sustainable.

Yes I loved, because now nothing is the same. I wonder if it will be again.

I know that deep down BA liked it too, because those who dared to laugh at the base pilot had a meeting with the great man's right fist.

I look scary fascination with the guard behind Murdock out the barrel of the revolver to rotate on itself before the reset.

Murdock calls his dog to come near him, but apparently the dog is out of reach, probably scared. Poor beast.

What I said, there has never been a dog.

Then the VC raises the weapon to the back of the head restraints and the trigger slowly as to make the pleasure last.

I close my eyes and look away at the same time.

Of cowardice? But I certainly do not want to see the collapse of the best friend I've ever had.

Then the sound of the hammer striking new vacuum rings on the square in the middle of bamboo cages. I find myself slightly startled.

Then I sigh of relief and takes my breath as I did not even realize that I had chosen.

I went back to look straight ahead. Knowing that now it is the turn of another unknown soldier, the next is me, then Hannibal.

Ray is in the cage in front of us, it was not chosen for that game I do not know why. Nor did him.

A simple game of chance from the start.

But I would not trade her up for anything. I would rather die than see my friends die. But unfortunately I'm wondering if I should not see him very soon.

I shake my head to this negative thinking and I focused on the trees bordering the camp in front of me behind the cages behind Ray.

I do not want to meet his eyes, I do not want eye contact with anyone.

Then I look at the trees dance with the wind that wraps fine in some branches making fluttering leaves.

The jungle.

* * *

Still TBC or not ?


	3. Chapter 3

**Hi everyone!**

I thank those who follow me, but I'm a little sad to not have comments.

I continue anyway because I finished writing the story, so as you to enjoy

So read on and please leave me a review.

Thank you

* * *

This place could be wonderful in another time.

The leaves so green - this trees so tall - the sky so blue.

Yes my God, it's beautiful.

Fauna and flora incredible if you look at the border of the madness and bloody that plays them at the bottom of his feet.

Remains focused on this Peck.

You don't think that mom, no family, no girlfriend waiting for you at home, the latter being the reason why you're here boy.

Leslie.

Why?

A tear escaped my eye right before I do realize. I feel her go down my cheek landing in the corner of my lips cracked me providing a hefty on my parched mouth.

Then, my wet eyes, I see a bird landing on a branch in the tree of my last hope. Probably my last image.

I look at this bird.

I've never seen that.

Plumage bright yellow dress that emerges from the green trees.

I smiled as I saw his eyes rimmed in black, like a mask extending on its tail like a cape. I guess this is Zorro who came to save us.

I would have said it to others; Murdock would be for this masked hero for the next forty-eight hours. BA tells me I'm crazy and insane that I would have to put it head to Murdock. Ray would make fun of me. Hannibal and just smile with his cigar stuck between his teeth.

At least in normal times is what would have happened but nothing is normal now.

I miss these scenes. Nothing will ever again.

The bird looks proud. As if he knew he was beautiful and unique.

And he is probably right to believe.

He then straightens to his full height to scan the area. Then her eyes stopped on me. I feel like he looks at me. He turns his head as if to study me. But I quickly realize that I should not be the object of his curiosity. Flies are the lust obviously.

These flies fluttering around me because of the stench that I release, to feed my dried blood and some of my sores. I do not even have the strength to hunt.

What good anyway!

This is a real meal worthy of the name for everyone.

The cycle of life. Everyone eats the other to survive.

Stupid jungle.

But eventually I let myself still captivated by her beauty next to me heard the knocking cylinder vacuum again.

I stay focused on the image in front of me when it's my turn.

I should feel the presence of the guard post behind me, I should hear maniacal laughter of others, I should be afraid, but none of it does.

I finally managed to escape from this hell.

No pain, no cage, no insect, guard, team, revolver, play, torture, pain. . . more emotions, feelings. . . Nothing.

Just the bird.

Me and him.

Him and me.

Then suddenly the radiation from the sun, making his way through the large density of foliage surrounding it, is then reflected on her beautiful golden plumage, which makes this surreal scene a little paradise on earth.

A small miracle beauty of this cruel world.

And, who makes miracles ?

Yes I feel his presence.

I want to feel at least for my last breath.

I want to believe it's there.

My faith back. In fact I had not really lost, I was just angry.

But I know. I know it makes me sign in via this bird.

I do not know if that's the reason to lose but I know I have to do something to thank him for being there. Watching over me.

Keeps hiding behind me, making probably turn the barrel once more, I rise to my feet as well as possible with my body numb and uncooperative. Not to mention a lack of balance with my hands tied in front of me.

I have surely cause confusion general because nobody reacts immediately.

I move three small steps, trying to get closer to the bird, the divine presence that I know this, until I feel a sharp pain in my lower back.

A rifle butt from hitting me probably.

I fell to her knees once more on impact but sit up again by bringing all my strength, never without losing sight of my goal.

Despite my trance, I feel overwhelmed and frightened eyes of others. Particularly that of Hannibal, which is believed to have lost me. This is probably the case elsewhere. Only a fool would react this way.

But I know what I'm doing, what I should do.

I hear screaming my name followed by a groan. We had to shut him up.

Me, they let me get up before hitting me again, but I will not fall this time, I continue my climb gently.

I am mesmerized by my own will.

Reviews pleeeeaaaase !


	4. Chapter 4

**Hi Muchachos!**

Thank you very much to Aeiu and Amaclement for yours reviews.

In this chapter I have helped many Google translate then tell me if it's better or not, and of course if you still like the story.

Comment is always nice and gives confidence even if it is to criticize ;)

Thanks, good read and sorry for the short chapter.

* * *

Given my general weakness, they suspect that I am not a threat, and decided to have fun.

I hear laughter around me.

A face in front of me snapping fingers right before my eyes for my attention while talking to me, insulting me probably, but I did not, I look at the bird. Then the face is removed. They must think I've lost my mind.

It is sure you tell me! But regardless, I continued.

I know I is not moving fast. My steps seem heavy - my legs tremble appears-in fact my whole body seems to sprinkle spasm, but I have to.

We push me on the right and on the left, then right again as they try to do a culbuto fall. And they almost succeed. I stop to catch my balance and I hear laughter again. And before I started to walk, a ball touches the ground a few inches from my left foot.

The ball would have hit me in the head. What an irony!

But I do not jump too pained to see the bird fly to the thud of the detonation, disappearing into the deep jungle, taking with him the little hope I had.

This devastated me and I fell back to his knees on my own this time.

I look around me while trying to remember where I actually am.

I see first some prisoners remained in the cages in front of me to watch. They look and feel almost sorry for my mercy towards them.

Then a figure attracts me.

Standing with both hands grasping the bars, I finally admit.

Ray.

He stares at me, looking more scared than I've ever seen.

He always wanted to shield me, all the unit actually.

They all thought I was a stupid kid unconscious of danger, undisciplined, who sought only trouble. Arrogant with death at my arrival and they were not wrong, but they all thought I have changed giving me their trust - responsibilities ; having become the best sniper base - the Purchasing Agent and the second in command, but especially by giving me their friendship unwavering and give me a meaning to my life.

And that was the case; I swear that was the case until now apparently.

Then I realize that I'm surrounded by five guards, two guns simply slung over their shoulder.

No, for them I am not a threat, just another soldier who plunged into madness.

They all look at me, laughing. Then one of them pushed me with his foot causing me to fall on the side, the head in the mud.

The laughter amplifies to humiliation.

It does not matter, nothing of any importance.

I turn my head slightly to the other.

BA is standing, held by two guards who hold by the arms. He had to struggle to want to pick me up earlier but now no longer moves. He simply looks concern on his face reading.

The two unknown soldiers look confused.

Murdock is still on his knees swaying back and forth repeatedly saying Billy.

And Hannibal.

Hannibal looks at me his eyes intense. One who begs you to come back. Back to reality. That look that tells you:

"Do not do anything stupid, that's an order."

I then noticed fresh blood running down the side of his head landing in his right eye, blinking repeatedly eyelid. But his eyes do not let me go.

My act has had an impact on each of them.

Hell, I'm sorry, so sorry.

I broke down and abandoned.

I have all abandoned.


	5. Chapter 5

Hi muchachos !

Well here is the result.

I am especially grateful Anodyne for correction.

And thank you for the reviews too.

* * *

Then the blows began to rain down. It was to be expected.

The kicks to my ribs make me curl up so that I can't see the Colonel anymore.

I know they're going to kill me. It's obvious. The force of the blows makes that clear.

Somehow, I manage to fish out from under my shirt the tiny cross hanging from a chain that they gave me when I arrived at the orphanage. Strangely, the VC had let me keep it. Don't ask me why; I don't know myself. Maybe just because it wasn't worth a dime - who knows. But as I know, anything that could remind us of our previous lives has simply been taken away. Like photos, which some people had - they've been taken away to make us forget our identities. Why?

Another question, one that no one can answer, about the senselessness of this war.

Anyway, I grab the small piece of metal, with the VC soldiers' blows still landing haphazardly on my body. I feel like my ribs are definitely breaking, and it hurts like a son of a bitch. I know it won't take much more to make me lose consciousness.

So before that can happen, I grasp the small cross before saying a prayer, clutching it hard between my fingers.

My lips move in a prayer that I didn't even know I remembered.

One of dozens of prayers I learned when I was young.

I hear my own voice, a hoarse whisper reciting the words in a jumble among my pain-filled moans.  
Then the blows stopped as soon as they came.

They're probably surprised by my reaction.

Tortured men generally cry, scream, pass out, call out to their moms, or pray to God for it to stop, sometimes all at the same time. Or maybe, like my team and me, repeat our name and rank over and over, or keep silent. Or, like Hannibal and me, give answers showing that both of us - or me especially, it seemed - had a gift for annoying the enemy even more, making him even more insane than he already was.

But never had any of us said a prayer thanking God, St. Mary, or others.

I close my eyes, not to concentrate, but to enjoy the warmth growing inside me and to feel the grace of faith flowing over me.

Believing in something, even when all hope was lost, gives me a feeling of serenity no matter what danger is near.  
Again, I feel a presence around me, which doesn't surprise me. But what does surprise me is the complete silence that surrounds me.

The laughter had stopped, and so had the Vietnamese insults.

No Face crying out, no calling Billy to the rescue. Nothing. Just silence and my own whispers.

I continue, not knowing where my strength comes from. I find a way to hoist myself up on my knees again, my hands just under my chin in the universal position of grace.

I open my eyes again so that I can keep sending my words to God - words about forgiveness, grace . . . anything that comes into my mind.

I feel something sink into my right temple, followed by an order in Vietnamese. Judging from the pressure, it's a gun belonging to one of the guards. But someone moves in front of me, also kneeling, sweeping the gun away from me with his hand.

I try not to pay attention, but I see him make the sign of the cross and put his hands together, closing his eyes. Then a second guard does the same thing, asking me in broken English if I'm a man of God.

I don't answer. I just close my eyes.

My lack of response must tell him that I am, since I hear him start to whisper along with me, picking up the rhythm of my words. I hear a third person draw close to me to pray with us.

Another miracle, you might say.

The enemy and the captive, the executioner and the condemned, the wolf and the lamb, the good and the evil . . . joined together in prayer.

Two factions, two enemies, two nations, only one God.

I tell myself that they themselves had been caught up in a war not of their own making, and that violence begets violence.

But it doesn't matter - I feel at home doing this.

Then all hell breaks loose around me.

* * *

Review please !


	6. Chapter 6

Hi Muchachos !

And here is the suit.

I want to thank those who read me and leave me reviews. I really appreciate it.

I hope you enjoy this chapter.

And thank you again to An0dyne my Beta.

* * *

I don't how it happened, but it did.

I hear punches beating on something - or I should say on someone - followed quickly by gunshots from an automatic weapon. I feel the weapon's firepower, and it seems as though I can feel the air being ripped as the bullets pass over my head. I start to tremble, or rather the ground begins to tremble, at the same time that I hear an explosion.

I start to speak more quickly - I want to finish my prayer. That's the only thing I care about.

Then I hear screaming. A mixture of Vietnamese and English.

And I think I hear my name several times in the distance behind all this .

Someone grabs my arms then and forces me to get up. But I resist - I'm not finished. I open my eyes to see the person who's forcing me, who's finally succeeded in pulling me up against my will. He puts my arm around his shoulders, holding it there with his hand gripping mine. Then he wraps his other arm around my waist.

It's only then that I realize that my bonds have been cut.

I look around me as my rescuer drags me out of the danger zone, and I see the five guards who had surrounded me earlier. They're lying on the ground, lifeless.

BA is holding a machine gun a bit farther away, his body trembling in time with the bullets flying toward the guardhouse where several of the guards have already died.

Hannibal throws grenades everywhere, but mostly onto the jeeps.

Grenades? Where did they find grenades? Then I see Lin Du Khu, the cook who gave us more supplies than he was allowed to give us, running with the other workers - he winks at me as he goes by.

I'm completely stumped for a moment about what to do next. Then my eye falls on the unnamed soldier, the one who was next to me just a few moments before, stripping a dead VC of his weapon so that he can lend us a hand.

And then the reality hit me.

This is a rebellion.

An escape.

We're escaping.

The team had taken advantage of my diversion (not a very good diversion, but still a diversion), to launch an attack. Several of the Vietnamese soldiers had let down their guard to pray with me, and the team had reacted.

Thank God. Finally.

The team?

Murdock!

Where's Murdock?

My rescuer sits me with my back against a bamboo cage that's still holding prisoners, and he grabs both sides of my face with his hands, forcing me to look at him. But my eyes don't cooperate. I look for my friend and I call him - I scream his name once, and then again, before I get a slap. I look with unconcealed hatred at the person who dared to do such a thing to me, and I hear him ask me a question.

A question that I can't quite understand.

But one word gets my attention.

Muchacho.

He called me "muchacho."

Only one fucking person calls me that!

I get ahold of myself; I focus on the intense brown eyes that look at me waiting for some sort of reaction, and I smile.

A real smile, which hadn't appeared on my face for many days, followed by a genuine laugh (triggered by nervousness, undoubtedly).

But the face in front of me looks worried, and asks again whether I'm with him.

I stop laughing and pull him toward me in a brief hug. I assure him that I'm here, and that I'm fine, finally . . . yes, I'm fine.

I'm also happy to see him acting this way. He's also with us.

Murdock had left his imaginary world for an instant, to help us.

To save me.

I know that he's not sane again - he never would be again, probably, not after all we'd been through - but for a moment, he's here, and that's all that matters.

I ask him to help me get up, but he refuses, telling me to stay where I am so that he can go and free the prisoners. He gives me a weapon that he must have picked up during our journey, and he moves away, ordering me not to move, saying that he's the captain and I'm the lieutenant, so I'd better obey him.

But I'm well and truly back now, and Lieutenant Templeton Peck is known for his insubordination, right?

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REVIEWS PLEASE ;)


	7. Chapter 7

**Hi !**

Well here is the suit.

Thank you to my beta An0dyne.

I'm a little sad didn't have review.

Do not hesitate to leave please ;)

* * *

I get up, using the bars of the cage, and guide myself toward the door slowly, limping, hurting like hell from the blows I had received earlier. I fire off a round onto the padlock, making it jump, and a few prisoners leave without waiting to hear anything more, each one going over to a dead soldier to get a weapon.

All of them regain their strength from the doors of freedom that were opened to them.

Then I turn around and work my way toward the only stone building in the enclosure. I know that it's back there, and I intend to take advantage of it.

To my great dismay. I go forward as slowly as a turtle.

I fire a few shots toward the enemy, losing my balance from the firepower because I'm so weak. I get inside, knowing that it will be the last time. At least, I hope so. It has to be.

Inside, the noise from the fighting outside fades, making things surreal.

I continue down the corridor, making sure that each room I pass is empty, but it looks like everyone is outside.

I stop in front of a room without a door. I look at the ring in the middle, where I had been suspended from handcuffs many times as a human piñata.

Remembering, I feel a long shudder go through my whole body.

I leave the room and continue on my way before I can get lost again.

How do I know where I'm going? Simple - I've been there once before. I don't think the others know. I don't think they had the right to know, either. Anyway, I know that the office belonging to the general in charge of this camp is here.

Damned General Cong.

Pity he isn't here today - he left the day before and never returned. But he'll have a big surprise when he gets back.

It was with this thought that I arrived at his office - a rather luxurious one for a godforsaken place in the middle of this jungle. The gentleman had good taste.

Shit - while I'm thinking this, a flood of bad memories comes over me again. This place doesn't help.

I'm out of breath and can't keep going; every muscle in my body is telling me to rest.

I have to control my breathing before I start to hyperventilate.

Then I remember my mission and I take control of the situation again.

I lift the picture hanging on the wall to reveal a safe. I open it without much trouble, since I had memorized the combination.

"That bastard, after offering to make me his bitch in exchange for special treatment".- an offer I refused, of course - had beaten me with his cane before trying to rape me. I'd never been so scared in my whole life. The first time, I started screaming at the top of my lungs, begging him to stop. Luckily, he was interrupted by a guard who came to warn him about a prisoner who was trying to escape. The general, who thought himself untouchable at the time, had opened his trunk in front of me to take out some file or another, while I lay on the ground with my pants to my ankles, just before the guards dragged me away.

The others never understood why I had been put into the hole for four days after that, half dead when I returned to the cage. They thought that I had made another smartass remark or that I was just a target of the VC's anger, since the escape took place right at that same time.

But the truth was that the General didn't like to be told "no."

I don't understand why he never tried to rape me again. Not that I'm complaining, but I never understood it at all; others wouldn't have hesitated. Maybe he was just too busy with other things - who knows.

At any rate, after that, I became a little game for them - their favorite.

But no luck - I was more stubborn than any mule.

Anyway, enough of these bad memories. I get all the files out of the trunk.

Military files, maps marked with the placement of other prison camps, enemy lines, attack plans . . . a real gold mine for us. For America.

Then I find a wooden box. It intrigues me. I open it and I smile again.

The Colonel will be delighted.


	8. Chapter 8

I put everything on the table and grab a black leather briefcase sitting on the chair. I leave the contents with the other important documents there, and add my treasure.

Of course, the box doesn't fit. I hold it under my armpit and grab the satchel. I take a walkie-talkie that was there and I shove it in the waistband of my pants, which are falling down a couple of inches - I had lost a lot of weight, but nothing irreparable. I take my weapon in my other hand and start back on the road toward freedom.

My god, I'm so tired. Give me the courage to keep going.

I get to the door, and before I go out, I listen carefully so that I don't have any unpleasant surprises.

Nothing else. No more explosions. Only a few orders.

American orders.

I smile again. We've done it. We've neutralized the enemy - a whole camp.

Then I hear my name being shouted again. By several voices I'm delighted to rediscover.

I go out softly, not wanting to draw any friendly fire, and I'm greeted by a beautiful scene that I'll never forget.

The executioners - the ones who aren't dead, anyway - have become the captives, imprisoned in their own camp, which was half-burned by grenade explosions.

The surviving Americans had formed their unit again - or at least, what was left of it. Those who are alone find themselves with those who shared their cages, the healthiest helping the worst off. An unfailing solidarity has formed between them. In all, 20 men.

And in the middle of all this, four people crying out my name at the top of their lungs, looking for me in every corner.

I look at Hannibal, who's running a hand over the back of his greying hair, looking totally disappointed despite his victory.

I walk up behind him, quite calmly, and say as loudly as I can, "Did you lose something, Colonel?"

He jumps at my question, and turns around, grabbing his gun, before letting out his breath and relaxing.

"Dammit, Face, are you trying to kill me?" he asks, relief in his voice.

I smile at him - a weak smile - and he smiles back.

The others join us as fast as their bodies will let them.

The adrenaline comes suddenly, with the urge to leave this place flowing in their veins and then draining slowly.

BA is the first to reach me. He puts a hand on my shoulder to pull me toward him and hug me, happy to find me again, but I flinch from the pain when he touches me. He takes his hand away without saying a word, probably not wanting to make me feel guilty. I silently thank him for knowing me so well.

I know that when Murdock and Ray arrive, they also want to give me a welcoming hug, but seeing my reaction, they won't, for fear of hurting me more than I was already hurt.

Instead, everyone asks me if I'm all right, where had I been, yelling at me that they're sorry they didn't kill me for not obeying a direct order . . . but everyone smiles after a while, seeing that I don't hear a word they're saying.

I content myself with smiling stupidly, happy but totally exhausted. The pain comes back with a sly vengeance, impossible to hide now.

I vaguely feel a hand resting on my shoulder, and soft tapping on my cheek to wake me while my eyelids flutter, accompanied by soft words.

I know that we have to leave here quickly before enemy reinforcements arrive.

I know that I should resist the temptation to sleep, but everything is going black quickly.

Without asking my opinion, my body goes limp and drops all my things - briefcase, box, and weapon all land on the ground. My legs give way under my weight, but I don't hit the ground. Two pairs of arms catch me before I can fall.

Then - the nothingness.


End file.
